Page 1 of Dearest Ronan

Anika

Prologue: Age 15

“Anika Steele! Over here!”

Grimes. My last name is Grimes. I’ve had it since the day I’ve been born, whether mom and dad are with me or not.

I want to scream at Carolyn—my temporary guardian until I turn eighteen—with the full capacity of my lungs. She’ll turn my pink and purple glittered heart black with anxiety. I’ve known her and her husband, Ronan, for less than an hour. Obviously, I don’t want to carry the Steele name.

Shuffling my feet towards the sound of Carolyn’s voice, I stop short when Ronan’s heated whisper ventures around the cornerto me. He speaks through his teeth, annoyed but voice low. “She just lost her parents last week. We’re strangers to her, Carol.”

A foot stomps, presumably Carolyn’s. “I want a happy family.”

If I hadn’t already cried for the past two straight months, I would now. Grimes reminds me of mom and dad. I’m sure Ronan and Carolyn are great people, but he’s right. Losing my parents is fresh. The thought of changing my name to match theirs hasn’t even crossed my mind. As it shouldn’t.

My God, I hadn’t known they existed until today.

Ronan’s deep grumble settles into my aching chest. “Fuck appearances. Let’s give her a kind, stable home and make her feel welcome. Starting with . . .” he pauses. I inch forward to further my eavesdropping. “. . . this bedroom. I thought we agreed to give her the bigger one across the hall.”

“I’ve changed my mind.” I imagine she waves her hand like it’s no big deal. Like she didn’t just try to steal my decaying heart by forcing a name change. “The baby will need that room. This one is much too small for a nursery.”

“Darling,” it sounds like he’s gritting his teeth, trying to remain patient with his wife. “I am not shoving Anika into a closet when we have a perfectly good bedroom down the hall.” When the foster care worker dropped me off, she told me how I’m their first ward, and I’ve since learned that I’m a pawn of sorts. Carolyn desperately wants to adopt a baby. So I suppose that by pretending I’m a success, they’ll happily give the Steele’s a much-requested baby to adopt.

It makes me miss my parents more.

I can’t stop thinking about the hallways of the home I left. How they’re silent and void of the joy they once held. Dad will never stoop to clean the baseboards, only to have mom snatch the rag from his fingers, claiming he’ll throw out his back if he bends for more than a few seconds.

I’m suffocating. Can’t they see it? Can’t Carolyn? The woman who is supposed to be my new mother-figure.

Deep in my thoughts, I missed a few exchanges between my guardians. It’s Carolyn’s voice that awakens me. “Exactly why I asked dad for money.”

Ronan lets out a loud puff of hot air. “We don’t need your family’s money! Our house is fine. Once Anika settles in, we can give her the choice of moving to the basement. That’ll make space for any potential future babies we may,or may not,adopt.”

“There’s no room!”

“Not true,” he emphasizes. “Don’t take your dad’s money for things we don’t need, Carol.”

Two sets of footsteps ascend the hall, coming directly to me. Eyes wide, I glance at places I can hide, but I don’t know the layout yet. Unfortunately, I stand there in a stupor.

Turning the corner, Ronan smacks right into me. On instinct, my fingers brace against his warm, hard chest. I must be a pervert, because I physically restrain myself from snaking my hands into his worn t-shirt to brush against his skin. He smells like delicious cinnamon.

“You okay?” he asks, voice changing from annoyed to soft.

“Mhm,” I mutter. I see the question in his eyes. The awkwardness ofPlease tell me you didn’t just hear the nonsense we were arguing about.

Because that’s what it was. Nonsense in the most horrific way.

I’m not changing my last name to theirs because I’m old enough to recognize that my parents are, and will always be, my true parents.

Even so, I can’t deny that the moment Ronan Steele defended my sorrowful, pink and purple glitter heart against his wife, I developed an insatiable crush.

Anika

Prologue: Age 16

“She needs professional help, Carol!” Ronan’s voice pierces through the wall of my bedroom. I jerk my head to the side, hating the pain I put him in. That’s never my intention.

Unable to help myself, I carefully slide off my bed, my leggings barely swishing as I pad to my door and softly open it.

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